Echo
by XXChRiSsYxx
Summary: Erin Olding has always been overlooked, and she's getting tired of it. Will people listen to her, or will her anger and frustration become a deadly threat to none other than herself? Will all that is heard is her echo? *Used to be Judgement Day.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a new story I'm going to be writing. I want to get at least 5 chapters into it before continuing my guide. If you love happy endings, please, just turn back. The character is named after my Aunt Joy's newborn, Erin Joy Olding, who was born March 22, 2010. Again, sorry if the punctuation is terrible, semi colons are not my forte. Quick thing for some people: if I review your story, don't bother using the whole "English isn't my first language." because it honestly will NOT work on me, I learned English when I was 8 years old. Just mentioning it, because I have gotten a message saying something like that. Now, enough wasting time here, on with it XD!**

**Judgement Day**

"ERIN!"

Startled, I fell out of bed, and onto the hard floor of cabin 7. I groaned, lifting my head up, and rubbed my temples.

"Really, Doug? Must you always do that?" I moaned, "What time is it anyways?"

"Err... 7:30 am" Doug replied, cheerfully. Too cheerfully for my liking.

I hoisted myself up onto one elbow, glaring at him. I picked up my pillow, and threw it at his large head. Like always, it missed, and fell to the floor with a dull thump.

"Wow, Erin... For someone who's good at archery, you have terrible aim," he snickered.

Yet again, I glared at him.

"Shuddup, I just want to go to sleep," I snapped.

"NO! If you go back to sleep, you'll be complaining all day that you missed breakfast, and that it was my entire fault! If you close one eye... You'll regret it!"

I glanced at him. "That's an empty threat. You're too much of a softy."

"Suit yourself, just don't come crying to me," he said bluntly, walking out the door.

I sighed, deciding that if I went to sleep, I'd miss breakfast and lunch. Reluctantly, I got up, and trudged my way over to a mirror, bracing myself. My hair wasn't as messy as it usually was when I woke up, but it still seemed impossibly tangled. The dark bags under my eyes were getting darker every day, and my lips were chapped. I grumbled and picked up my brush. My blonde hair was _impossible _to tame.

**********

After the difficult task of brushing my hair, I ate breakfast, which was uneventful, like always. Percy and Annabeth were bickering. Laughter filled the air, and everyone seemed to be talking, giving me a headache. I sat down at the far end of the Apollo cabin's table, and ate my breakfast in pure silence, the way I liked it.

Once I was finished my breakfast, I left immediately to practice archery. When I arrived to the targets, I picked up a bow and arrow.

Archery was my favourite thing to do. I wasn't good at sword fighting or capture the flag, like Percy was. I wasn't even all that great at medicine. Archery was the one thing that got my mind off of things, the one thing that I was actually _good _at. When I was eight, I was a nightmare with a bow, but after a few weeks at Camp Half-Blood, I started to get the hang of it. I remembered how to put on the arm-guard correctly: it went on the bow arm, which was my left arm. I made sure that my elbow was parallel to the floor, and at high anchor, the way I preferred it. I made sure that my hand was placed firmly on the grip, and I shot. The arrow propelled its way to the target.

"Dang." It was right beside the bullseye.

I remembered the first time I had picked up a bow. I hadn't even aimed the arrow correctly. I was clumsy, and had a weak shot. I couldn't get the arrow to propel within 10 feet of the target.

The best practice I had ever gotten was during the Battle of the Labyrinth, and then when we were guarding Olympus. I couldn't do too much during the latter, however, because I almost immediately got injured, with a dislocated shoulder and broken leg.

Smiling, I took my IPod out of my jean pocket, and started listening to what hurts the most by the Rascal Flatts.

_I can take the rain on the roof of this house, that don't bother me._

_I can take a few tears now and then and just let them out. _

I sat down on the grass, and fell back. I took a deep breath, and closed my eyes.

_I'm not afraid to cry every once in a while, even though going on with you gone still upsets me._

_There are days every now and again I pretend I'm okay, but that's not what gets me._

_What hurts the most, was being so close, and having so much to say, and just watching you walk away._

I heard footsteps coming closer to me, but I ignored them. The people would probably just pass me, as if I wasn't event there. It's not like it's that hard to not notice me, because I was so quiet and desolate.

Sadly, the half-bloods who had taken a stroll weren't going to ignore me. In fact, they were looking for me.

"Oi, Olding!"

I opened my eyes, ripped out my headphones, and sat up angrily

"What do you-"My eyes went wide. I couldn't speak. I didn't want to, because I feared my mouth would betray me, and I would surely get pummelled.

It was my worst enemy. 18-year-old, I-can-do-anything-include-beat-the-living-shit-out-of-you, Andra Keen. She was a daughter of Hecate, but I was starting to think that she's really a daughter of Ares. In a few ways, she reminded me of Clarisse.

Except for the fact that Andra scared me more, and was far more hostile towards me. I started thinking about running for my life. There was one problem though. Andra and her little minions were faster than me.

"Gettin' a little twitchy there, aren't you, shorty?" her twin brother, Ajax, taunted.

I glared at him. He wasn't as strong or smart as Andra. He probably had an IQ that's equivalent to that of a rock. I must say, that's very insulting. Not to Ajax, but to the rock. He was right though. _Damn my stupid nerves_, I thought. They were making me sweat, and I was starting to twitch.

Andra approached me, wearing a cruel smile. "What should we do to you today, huh? Maybe we should beat you to the pulp..." she debated with herself. "Or, we could just humiliate you by throwing you into the lake."

I'm sure that my face lost its entire colour. Normally, I'm tan, but at the moment, I was probably looking much more albino.

"Please don't." Pathetic! That was all I had to say?

Andra and her buff group were now starting to close in on me. I felt tears welling up in my blue eyes, but I forced them back. Nothing would be more embarrassing than crying in front of Keen.

"Call off your dogs, Keen," a familiar voice sneered.

**I apologize for any spelling, punctuation and grammar mistakes. The entire story, except for the last chapter or two will be in Erin's point of view. CC would be great. **

***Gasp* a cliffy! When I have the time, I'll update.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry it's taken me a long time to review, I've been having personal troubles, so this story was at the bottom of my priority list. When I said that she was a nightmare with a bow at first in the last chapter, I was basically describing myself at 8 years old... I love archery now though, so yay! To get things straight, I doubt there will be romance in this, considering the fact that Erin is 13 years old. No Kronos-randomly-appearing-out-of-nowhere-and-trying-to-kill-Percy. No Kronos at all, there will be references to it, but he won't be making a guest appearance. I'll be writing more though, every day that the Pittsburgh Penguins aren't playing against Ottawa... I've also been obsessing over **_**Band of Brothers**_** and watching it like, 24/7. This chapter is rated T for coarse language. **

**One more thing: I've decided that she will have brown eyes, because blonde hair and blue eyes is cliché. This chapter will focus mostly on Erin, her family and friends. There won't be as much dialogue in this chapter, but I hope it will be longer.**

Words will land on me,  
Then abandon me,  
Mangle, untangle me,  
Leave me on the floor.

I whipped my head around to see who the voice belonged to. I had a good idea who it was, but I needed to make sure.

I growled at the person who had probably just saved my ass from getting whipped. Before I had realized who the owner of the voice was, I had been filled with relief. Andra and her minions had a reputation for beating the crap out of me. I had the scars to prove it; one ugly, thick scar ran along my jaw line, a few along my legs, and a few more. They once had bruised me so badly, that you could still see a faint shadow of a black eye around my dull brown eyes.

"Leave me the hell alone, Ivy," I growled fiercely. My damn older, perfect sister, who made me look like a total loser, which I already was. Unlike me, she was charismatic, and was good at making friends. Everybody liked her, except for me. I was spiteful towards her, and generally detested her. I was the only person who knew that she had flaws, or at least noticed. To me, she was poison ivy, and was only a nuisance.

"You're welcome, Evika," Ivy smirked. She knew I hated that name, my damn given name. Erin wasn't even remotely close to being a nickname for Evika, but when you hate your first name, god dammit, anything will do. My parents didn't seem to think about how I would feel about the name 'Evika', so when I was 4 years old, I decided that I would change it to something normal.

My eyes rested on Ivy, and surprisingly enough, I didn't glare, which was a feat for me. She was a typical female teenager, unlike me. She liked boys; I could care less about them. She cared about her appearance; I would rather be in my PJ's all day. We did have a 4 year age gap, but we still looked nothing alike. She had curly black hair and blue eyes; was rather tall, about 5'9 to be exact, and was a queen bee, while I was at the bottom of the social food chain.

Andra didn't like my sister either, but at least she never picked a fight with her. On rare occasions, like now, she would obey Ivy's incessant commands.

"Next time, you won't be so lucky, squirt," Andra stated bluntly.

Squirt. I hated that nickname; like all of my other nicknames, it referred to my abnormally small height (4'6"), or how I looked about 9-years-old. There was shorty, munchkin, midget, elf, dwarf, shrimp, Thumbelina, and more. I hated all of those nicknames, but I knew that people who called me them didn't mean it in a cruel way. They thought I didn't mind it, but throughout the years, it had completely deflated what used to be my big head. It also cut the last thread of self-esteem that I had. Of course, being the nice person I was (sarcasm), I kept my mouth shut, nodded, and smiled. When I had gotten claimed after being at Camp Half-Blood for a while, I felt special. That is, until I found out that Ivy had also gotten claimed. The only positive thing that rolled through my head after that was the fact that I would be leaving the crowded Hermes cabin.

"Again, you're welcome for saving your ass there," Ivy said, now with a hint of annoyance. "You know, you should really learn to defend yourself. Someday, nobody will be there to save the day, Erin, and you'll be all alone, on your own. Nobody's going to be there to help you, to listen to your complaints. All that you'll hear is your own echo."

"Just shut the fuck up, Ivy! I don't need you to tell me how terribly weak I am!" I had finally cracked. Years of holding all of that back had taken its toll on me. "I don't care! I don't need to be saved every freaking time that something bad happens to me! I'm thirteen now, I know how to take care of myself, and I don't complain _that _much!"

I started to cry. I wasn't used to yelling like this. I was normally soft-tempered. Over the years, I had been taught by my science teacher, Ms Hatfield, to let out my frustration on abiotic things, or to just bottle up my emotions. My tears were falling hard and fast, hitting the ground. I couldn't take it anymore. I hated crying, especially in front of someone. It made me feel even more weak, and useless. It was even more humiliating that I was crying in front of Ivy.

I listened to my instincts, and ran. At first I didn't realize where I was running to. I was tripping and falling, bawling my eyes out. Before I knew it, I was in my cabin, and threw myself onto my bed, and pulled the covers over my head. I needed time to myself, to calm down. I did the only thing that I knew would calm me down. I thought about my best friend, Gracie. We did everything together. She was my only mortal friend who knew about the fact that I was a Half-Blood. One of the only people in The Bronx, where I had moved to when I was five years old, who shared my dislike for Poison Ivy. We were like sisters, and were even born on the same day, month, and year, only 7 minutes apart. The only difference was that I was born in Cheyenne, Wyoming; and she was born in Staten Island, New York City. She always traveled during the summer, and I was always at Camp Half-Blood for 2 months, so we only got to see each other during the school year.

Then I thought of my brother. It was a painful, yet calming thought. He died last year, when he was 25-years-old. I loved him more than anyone; I loved him more than I loved my own parents, and even Gracie. He was somebody that I could talk to when I was so stressed out that I just wanted to scream. Connor had been in the marines for 5 years, and was a Lance Corporal, and was in his third month in Iraq. I remembered seeing Captain Parker at the door, and my mother weeping; my father holding her in his arms. It had been the worst day in my life.

It sounded hauntingly cruel, but suddenly I had completely calmed down. The peaceful surroundings of the Apollo Cabin; which had beautiful white walls that were complimented by gold trimming, would make anyone stare in awe. There were paintings that were hung up on the wall, portraying Apollo, (big surprise there) doing spectacular things, or portraits of women, men and children playing instruments; mainly the harp though. There was one laurel wreath on every wall. Four simple, yet stunning wreaths.

I sighed; I had been at Camp Half-Blood for over 2 years, but the cabins still took my breath away. Everything was so precise, and so gorgeous, that it was hard to describe things. The Hades cabin freaked me out, though. The way it portrayed death would make even Hannibal freaked out. It was scary, a terrible, yet beautiful creation.

**I'm not sure about this chapter. It's more descriptive, but I just feel like I rushed it. CC would be appreciated. Yes, I know that Ivy is Mary Sue to the extreme, but you'll see another side to her nearing the end of the story. This chapter was mostly to portray the 'other side' of Erin, who's normally sweet and innocent. Yes, the language is a bit controversial for her age, I guess, but my friends and I are even worse. Andra isn't afraid of Ivy, she just has this unspoken respect for her, yet she dislikes her. The thing that Ivy said about echo's and shit was taken from Echo by Gorilla Zoe.**

**-C**


End file.
